


Don't Go Wasting Your Emotion

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Musician Peter Parker, Musician Tony Stark, Pop Culture, Stark Bingo 2020, Tumblr: starkerfestivals, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Tony Stark refuses to follow in his father's footsteps, his one true love is music and nothing is going to change that. During a particularly audacious performance of ABBA, Tony is noticed by Peter Parker, a man looking for lead singer for his band.Or - the one where there's a lot of 80's music & Tony and Peter do a lot of eye fucking on stage.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Don't Go Wasting Your Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> There is a ton of music in this, so you might want to pull up YouTube and listen along. I listened to this whole playlist of songs while writing and it really enhances the story! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy it <3

Throughout his life, everyone assumed Tony had it made. People looked at his last name like that held the key to who he was as a person. From a young age, Tony hated it. It seemed silly, to be compared to a name – one that he didn’t even want anything to do with. His father’s work didn’t define him, despite what everyone thought. The never-ending conversations about his eventual takeover of the company drove him even further from the obligation that came with his last name and the empire built around it.

The second Tony got the opportunity to do what he wanted, he did. Being so advanced in school meant graduating high school early and escaping to the dorms of MIT. With freedom came Tony’s true awakening. His roommate, a gorgeous man studying aeronautical engineering, loved everything about music.

Up until a year or two ago, Tony simply dealt with silence in the big house he felt trapped in – then, he discovered vinyl and the goodness of classic rock; The Beatles, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin – they were all part of the soundtrack that brought him true joy and happiness.

Rhodey, on the other hand, had a very eclectic taste in music. He appreciated all of the genres, funk, pop, rock – there was always something new on the record player when Tony walked in from a class or the extra time he needed to spend in the lab. Throughout their time together, Rhodey taught him everything he ever wanted to learn about the music world – including how to play the guitar.

By the time graduation rolled around, Tony knew he wouldn’t be using his mechanical engineering degree one single bit. He wanted to explore more of the music world, he needed to be something outside of the Stark name. His father didn’t approve of his decision, but he never did – nothing Tony accomplished throughout his life would ever be good enough, anyway. Though he didn’t cut him off, he didn’t allow Tony back to the compound – he figured it to be a punishment, that Tony would come crawling back. Tough luck that was.

Getting a job at a record store kept Tony up to date with all of the new music being produced by some of his favorite old artists and some of the new ones of the day. Every day, Tony went to work in a place that he actually liked, then came home to an apartment that he paid for by himself, decorated the way he wanted, and did whatever he wanted within it. It took a little while to get the place soundproofed – but when he did, all bets were off.

He got pretty good at the guitar, his hands nimble from years of working on small parts and pieces. His brain processed the notes easily and the tone seemed to come naturally to him. Through his dabbling, Tony found that he could sing – that his voice was rich and could carry many different pitches. From ABBA to Def Leppard, Tony slowly found himself learning how to control his voice and hit all the notes throughout the different octaves.

One of his favorite pastimes quickly became karaoke. Between the good times he always had with Rhodey and the ability to get on stage and work out his voice, Tony always enjoyed the weekly trips they took to Monteros’. The bar was a dive, there wasn’t any denying that. The chairs were old and the people behind the bar were even older – but they had a great stage and an audience that rolled with whatever got brought to the table.

They tried the more upscale places a couple of times – they were nicer and had younger, hotter people tending bar. Yet, the singers were usually stiff, and the song selection was very slim. The reoccurring theme in Tony’s life came down to freedom and he was bound and determined to only surround himself with people and places that fostered that – dingy dive bars included.

That Friday night, Tony put on his straight leg jeans, white t-shirt, and leather jacket – the outfit one of his favorites to perform in. He grinned at the worn-out Sambas on his feet and quickly left his apartment, Rhodey was probably already waiting there for him with a table and a pissy expression.

Walking into the bar that he could easily add to the list of his favorite places, Tony grinned when he saw Rhodey sitting in their normal spot. The other man didn’t take part in the singing, but he always appreciated the performances – their front row seats gave him the best vantage point to enjoy them head on and center. “Hey, Rhodes,” Tony said in a way of greeting, his hand squeezing his friends shoulder briefly.

“Tony Stark – nice of you to finally join me. I know your 19-year-old self can’t have one, but I’m going to get a drink. Hold down the fort for a few minutes, will you?” Rhodey got up without preamble, the man knew Tony would do what he asked – they’d been doing this song and dance for a couple of years now.

When Rhodey got back, he sat down with a smirk on his face – dark eyes glistening with a combination of mischief and excitement. “I put your name on the list already. You’re going to love what I picked out for you.” His smirk had a chuckle bubbling out of Tony’s chest, a grin of his own spreading across his cheeks.

“You don’t scare me. Nothing will ever beat the night you made me do the entire collection of Cindi Lauper – I still haven’t forgiven you for that, by the way,” Tony remarked, his hand wrapping around Rhodey’s glass to down some of the contents. The scandalized look on his friend’s face made the burn of the alcohol worth it so much more. “Bring it on, Rhodes.”

They sat through a handful of performances before Tony was called to the stage, the song selection making everyone in the audience laugh, Rhodey included. Meeting his eyes, Tony shook his head – what an absolute prick. Either way, Tony wasn’t going to waste a second of performance time. He cycled through the embarrassingly big collection of ABBA songs in his head, the lyrics and beat of this one calling for something special.

The music started when he nodded to Clint in the sound booth. Tony wrapped both of his hands around the microphone that still sat in the stand, his foot tapping to the beat of the instrumental – the song started with a couple of empty bars filled with the thump of synthesizer. Looking out in front of him, the transition happened easily – his mouth opening wide to belt out the first lyric. “ _I wasn’t jealous before we met_ ,” Tony started, the end of the line hitting perfectly with the cutting tempo of the song.

The more he got into it, the more he loosened up – Tony swung his hips to the beat and pulled the microphone from its stand, the chord following behind him easily. There weren’t too many people in the crowd, the early part of the evening always a little bare. He kept his eyes up, the best part of performing for him the reaction of everyone else. One particular set of eyes seemed to follow him the entire time – Tony pointed his body in that direction, the first chorus quickly approaching.

Stepping down off the stage, Tony started to walk through the tables – he carried himself with excitability and knew getting close to the crowd would transfer some of that energy. He passed by the table where the intense eyes were, his gaze connecting with a boy around his age, his clothes somewhat similar to Tony’s – he hit the first “lay your love on me” right as his fingers brushed against the top of the table. Turning quickly, Tony strode over to Rhodey, his friend laughing, face completely lit up.

He sprawled across the tabletop; his face turned in Rhodey’s direction so the man got the full effect of the words coming out of his mouth – “Don’t go sharing your devotion. Lay all your love on me.” Tony reached out and pressed his palm to Rhodey’s cheek, his smile evident in the words vibrating out of his chest. He sat up then, his feet dangling from the table as he moved onto the next verse.

By the end of the song, Tony was dripping sweat and completely enraptured. The energy of the room picked up the further he got into the cheesy ABBA lyrics – the crowd got into it and the more that happened, the more Tony did, too. He finished the repetitive chorus with a bang, the edges of his leather jacket spinning with every turn he took. The applause he stepped down from the stage to made his heart ache – it felt so damn good to be up there, doing something that he actually enjoyed.

It took him a few minutes to calm down from the rush – his back against the bar where he nursed a cool glass of water. He would probably put his name in for another performance later – the queue more than likely not long, anyway. For now, though, he felt content to bask in the post-performance glory. It was small time karaoke and he still felt like a star.

Turning to flag Nick down for another glass of water, Tony was surprised to see the man from the crowd standing at the bar right next to him. He glanced over at him – his features were stunning; sharp cheek bones, plump lips, and eyes the color of cinnamon. The hair that framed his face was long, the edges of it curling around his ears and up against his neck. The best part of the decade had to be the hairstyles and wardrobe freedoms – he loved the long hair and jean jacket combo.

“You were pretty good up there,” the man started, his body turning until his side was leaning against the bar – it seemed as if he could see Tony a little bit better from that angle. Tilting his head, Tony let go of the glass in his hand and did the same thing, their gazes locking much easier now.

A smile at the man’s compliment slipped across his lips. It wasn’t often random people stopped him to talk, let alone tell him he was ‘pretty good’. The only recognition of who he was came when people put him and his last name together. This guy seemed genuine, so he opened up a little. “Thanks. My friend is a dick and thought he’d trip me up with that one. Sucks to suck – I fucking love ABBA,” Tony replied, his cheeks heating up from the admission. “I’m Tony,” he muttered after a moment, his hand sticking out between them.

It took a second for the guy to take his hand – he fiddled with the hem of his jacket before actually filing the gap and grasping Tony’s offer of friendship. The black polish on his nails made Tony smile wider – this guy had to be one of his people. “Good to know you. I’m Peter,” the other finally replied, his hand lingering for a second longer before the touch was gone. Tony’s hand felt a bit bare now that the warmth was absent.

“Have you ever tried a duet?” Peter questioned, his eyes roaming over Tony, the look seemingly nervous, like he just asked him the answer to the secret of the universe, not about musical performances.

Shaking his head, Tony pursed his lips – it never crossed his mind, trying to drag someone else on stage with him. He knew a lot of music and could sing, but that’s as far as it went. Tony sung to a hairbrush in the bathroom and marveled when he got the opportunity to actually have people hear him. The thought of other people present on the stage wasn’t a thing until that very moment. “I haven’t – but I wouldn’t be opposed. Why, you interested?”

In that moment, Tony saw something that would change him forever – Peter’s smile. The other guy looked so somber until his face lit up with excitement. His eyes were bright, the caramel of them smoothing out, like molten candy straight from the boiling pot. The slightest of crinkle started at the corner of his eyes, like maybe he spent a little too much time squinting at sheet music or small text. Tony found himself grinning widely back. It wasn’t particularly safe to be looking at another man like this in public, but he didn’t care – the radiant light of this guy was too much to ignore.

“I’m interested. Do you think you could take the first part of Don’t You Want Me?” Peter asked him, the tangible elation in his words making Tony nod his head without a thought. Luckily, The Human League’s record sat on his shelf, that particular song one of his favorites from the album.

“You bet. I’ll follow your lead in the harmonies.” Tony could already hear the lyrics in his head, the thought of performing that kind of song with another man felt scandalous, but also so right.

Another couple of performances went by before Tony and Peter were called up, the crowd a lot bigger than before, the claps loud and more than enough to spur both of them on. The stage crew did a good job putting another microphone on the stage, Peter saddling up to the furthest one before Tony could even ask. Looking over at him, Tony got a nod from Peter – the light in his eyes still so bright, the anticipation of performing very obviously coursing through him.

The song started, the funky beat playing into the first set of words – “ _You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, when I met you_.” The pace was fast, so he focused on getting the words out. His eyes flashed between the teleprompter, the crowd, and the gorgeous man standing up on the stage next to him. Peter watched him the entire time, his body swaying ever so slightly. If this was what intimacy felt like, Tony wanted so much more of it.

Peter took up the second verse seamlessly, his stage presence a lot different when the music overtook him, and his mouth started to move with the lyrics. His voice was a lot higher than Tony’s, the fit of it for the second part of the song absolutely perfect. Tony felt himself beaming, this performance so much different than the one he put out for the crowd to see on his own. It felt good playing off of someone else’s energy – especially someone as talented as Peter seemed to be.

At the end of the song, they ended up back to back, their voices mixing to bring the last couple of repeats to a close. The music ended and the crowd came alive with noise and applause – Tony could hear Rhodey’s voice over the mass of people, his whoops so recognizable. He felt his chest heaving – sweat collected across his forehead and soaked his shirt throughout the performance; but man was it worth it.

Turning, Tony caught his breath at the look on Peter’s face. Tony loved the limelight – it was hard to break from after being in it for so long. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to appreciate a job well done – the reaction of the crowd something that brought the happiest look Tony had seen yet to his face. This guy belonged on the stage.

Warm hands were on his shoulders as they made their way down the stairs and off the stage, the heat of them seeping down through his leather jacket to the exposed skin of his arms. Tony felt himself laugh, his heart was beating a mile a minute and he just had the best encounter of his life up on the place he felt the most comfortable. He never thought this kind of happiness existed.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had on stage,” Tony admitted, his hand reaching up to tap one of Peter’s. If they were anywhere else, he probably would’ve pulled him into his arms, swung him around in an excited hug. Even still, the small touch was enough – Peter tightened his grip for a moment, then pulled away.

The other’s face was absolutely flushed – the wetness of sweat making the hair on the front of his forehead stick to the skin there. Tony’s fingers itched to reach up and push it back. He refrained, but only just barely.

“You’re something else, Tony. Any chance I could convince you to come play with me and my band? We need a new lead singer and you seem to be everything we’ve been looking for.” Peter quirked a brow at him, the smirk on his lips only adding to the sexiness of the look.

Tony stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes roaming over his handsome face to make sure there weren’t any signs of joking or fucking around with him. He seemed pretty genuine, though – the redness of his cheeks made it difficult to see anything other than adorableness. Biting down on his bottom lip to keep the huge smile from spreading over his cheeks like a cheap whore’s legs, Tony nodded – hell fucking yes he wanted to be in Peter’s band.

“If you’re not fucking with me, I’m absolutely game. 100% down to be in a band and do that more than just once a week,” Tony answered, his own face red from the eagerness that couldn’t be contained.

Peter’s response was a swift arm around his shoulder, the shorter guy’s frame pressing into the side of Tony’s chest so sweetly. Without a thought, Tony wrapped his arm around him, keeping the contact between them close.

“When do we start?”

\----

Much to Tony’s delight, Peter introduced him to the band the very next day.

Ned, the drummer, was a bigger man with dark hair and a friendly look on his face – he shook Tony’s hand with a grin on his face. “Pete says you’re better than Steve – can’t wait to see what you bring to the table, my man.” He shot him a smile and stepped back, his hands already fiddling with the sticks that were just in his pocket.

The bassist, a beautiful girl with the craziest curly hair and dangerous smile was up next – she didn’t shake his hand, her arms stayed folded across her chest, the bass tucked safely against her. “Do you play anything? Or just look pretty and sing?” MJ, as Peter introduced her, asked him with the slightest hint of sass. She was the spunk of this group – Tony could already tell.

“I play the guitar – I have a Gibson Les Paul and a Fender Strat. I’ve been slamming since college.” Tony was quick to quote a couple of his stats; her eyes were boring into him and it felt a little scary. He felt more of a need to impress her than anyone else standing in the room.

She was quick on the kickback, the look on her face softening a bit. “Was that yesterday, then? You look younger than Petey over there, and he’s the baby.” MJ pointed over towards the guy standing on Tony’s right side. People always asked him that question, his young face still something that got him into trouble every now and again.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Tony shrugged – “I graduated from MIT when I was 16. So, 3 years ago now, actually.” The collective gasps made him laugh – his secret identity obviously didn’t get to stay secret for long.

“You’re that Tony?” Peter piped up first, his voice causing Tony to turn a little. Peter’s eyes roamed over him – the appraisal not any different than before, just a bit more hesitant. “Tony Stark, right? Wonder kid – tech genius. You’re in line for a billion-dollar business. What are you doing here, with us?”

Tony didn’t have to think hard to answer that question, there were many reasons, so goddamn many of them. “I love music. My father just assumed I’d dump myself into the business. I followed his rules, went to college, did the whole song and dance – but it didn’t make me happy. This does – music, performing, bringing beats and words to life. I’m here for me, I guess. Because this is what I want.”

There was a moment of silence where everyone looked around – Tony watched the other three share looks between them, that mode of silent communication only available to the people that wrote the language. All at once, they swooped in and wrapped him up in a weird group hug. “This is the misfit family club, you’re totally welcome here, Tony Stark.” MJ was the one to voice the group’s opinion.

With the awkward stuff out of the way, the group got themselves organized – Tony stood behind the microphone with his guitar strapped across his chest right across from Peter, the man behind a fancy looking keyboard and a mic. There wasn’t a set list in place, so Ned started to tap out the opening lines of Take On Me – the beat of it easy to remember. Taking a deep breath, Tony started to sing, his entire being knowing that this was probably his only shot to impress these people. Peter was only one part of the package – MJ and Ned needed to get on board with his talent, too.

They didn’t stop for a while, Ned led them into song after song, all of them covers – all of them sounding a bit better the more the group played together. Tony took it as a good sign, MJ didn’t stop them right off the bat and demand him to leave – in fact, she got so lost in the music, it was difficult to bring her back from wherever she went when they were done. In all his life, he never felt so carefree – so openly accepted by people that liked the same thing he did.

“So, that’s the best we’ve ever sounded,” Ned said a little while later, all four of them sprawled out on the floor from pure exhaustion. They played for more than two hours, Tony’s throat was raw, and his fingers hurt – but it was the best he’d ever felt. “Like – we might actually have a chance to do something at Battle of the Bands this year.”

Looking around, Tony’s face split into a huge smile. “You guys compete at Battle of the Bands?” Tony gapped at them, his only experience with the music competition was as a fan standing in the crowd, looking up at the stage dreamily. Never in a million years did Tony think he’d actually be up on that stage.

The look on his face must’ve been dreamy, because they were all laughing. His cheeks flashed red, the idea of playing on a major stage and being teased about his excitement combining to create the ultimate blush – it probably trailed all the way down his chest at this point. Peter reached out and grabbed his shoulder, the move seemingly customary after a couple days of it happening – the squeeze was nice, the small touch reassuring. “It’s one of the coolest things you’ll ever experience, Tony.”

Still grinning, Tony went about putting his guitar away, the rest of the group doing the same. It’d been more than 4 hours since he walked in the door. His stomach grumbled, the reminder of how long it’d been making his body remember the fact that it needed food, water – sustenance was necessary to continue to rock out this way.

When he turned around, everyone but Peter was gone, the other two slipping out seemingly without a peep. Tony wasn’t mad about that, though. Since meeting Peter the day before, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, a lot of that had to do with their performance and the way it made him feel – there’d been so much chemistry between them. The more secretive part of him understood that carnality also played a part. Peter was hot, could play music, and the more he got to know him, the better his personality seemed to be.

“Any interest in getting something to eat? I’m wiped and could use a burger, or something.” Tony posed the question casually, he didn’t want to put any undue pressure on the outing, or Peter in general. They were practical strangers, after all.

Peter smiled over at him – “I could eat. I’ll show you some of the songs we’ve been trying to put together for Battle of the Bands, too. Maybe you’ll have some ideas.” Peter shouldered the bag with his keyboard in it, his hand once again finding Tony’s shoulder. “There’s a decent greasy spoon a couple blocks from here.”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He touched the spot on his arm Peter did and followed him closely – all of the touching was getting to him. Peter’s touch felt like fire, the entirety of it consuming him, moving down his arms and core to settle low into the pit of his stomach. Being gay and not really able to act on it all that often, Tony recognized the fact that he was touch starved. Yet, no one else’s touch had ever really – drawn such a reaction.

Stopping in front of May’s, Tony took a look around the place. It was old fashioned, decked out in old Coca-Cola signs and pictures of the city over the years. They settled at the counter, where Tony noticed a picture of the man he was sitting next to on the wall. “Is that you?” Tony asked, his finger pointing at a much younger and toothless Peter.

Curious eyes watched Peter’s cheeks color, the other guy shaking his head with mirth. “Oh god. Yes. This is my aunt’s place. I’ve told her so many times to take that damn picture down,” Peter’s grumbles were adorable and seemingly half assed. He might not be that old, but he was old enough to pull a picture off the wall if it really bothered him that much.

“It’s adorable. How long were you missing your front teeth?” Tony chuckled when Peter’s hand flew out and smacked against his arm.

“Asshole. It was a really long time. That smile followed me around for at least another year or so.” Peter’s lips were pressed together, the man obviously trying not to smile. “Wait – you think it’s adorable?” He tilted his head at Tony, a new look in his eye.

Blushing himself, Tony nodded his head, eyes dropping for a second. Flirting out in the open was new for him, he didn’t spend a lot of time doing this – getting to know a person. There weren’t a lot of people that seemed worth his time, so he avoided the experience all together. Now, though, he wished for just a bit more experience, for the words that were right for a situation like this. “Yes – insanely so. Hasn’t changed much, either.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that – he simply scooted his chair a little closer and leaned into his space more than he already did. The entire left side of Tony’s body was tingly and numb, the foreign feeling enough to take the edge off the hunger, despite no food crossing his lips. Maybe the hunger resided elsewhere, maybe he wasn’t just hungry for food, anymore. Opening his eyes to actual happiness came with a lot of new things to consider.

The illustrious May came to take their order. She hilariously reached across the counter to pinch Peter’s cheeks, her red lipstick smile endearing – it reminded him of his mother before complacency in life started to set in. A swift pang of something hit Tony square in the chest – his eyes leaving the scene in a rush.

A surprise moan left Tony’s lips when he bit into his burger a few minutes later. Not only was May eternally out to embarrass Peter in front of any person that would watch, she could cook better than anyone Tony ever encountered – even the paid chefs his father brought in to make them fancy meals. His father would curse him dead if he ever uttered anything like that in his presence. Regardless, she was amazing, and he annihilated his food without really looking up until he was completely done.

“Your aunt can really cook, Pete. I’m surprised you’re not a giant balloon with food like that at your disposal whenever you want,” Tony remarked, his full belly allowing him to actually pay attention to the man sitting next to him now. Though, he never noticed a weirdness in the silence, a feat that was substantial considering how much he loathed the silence everywhere else. His house growing up was riddled with a pit of quiet – but he didn’t mind it with Peter, it was actually nice, comfortable.

Tossing the last couple of fries into his mouth, Peter nodded, his cheeks full enough to make him look like a chipmunk hoarding nuts. Tony watched with amusement as he struggled to eat all of the food in his mouth and then swallow it – the bulging of his cheeks not getting any better until all the food was down. “I’ll make sure to tell her. She’ll be excited that THE Tony Stark liked her food.” Peter shot him a wink, the joke in his voice evident. “Now that’s taken care of, do you want to look at the set list?”

A rush of excitement washed over him, Tony nodding his head eagerly. “Hell yes, I do.” Peter shook his head fondly and opened up one of the zippers on his keyboard case – he placed a red folder stuffed to the gills with sheet music in front of Tony. Looking at it wide eyed, Tony flipped it open and immediately felt overwhelmed. There were handwritten sheets of lyrics, scribbled notes about key and pitch – his brain in overdrive already.

“I didn’t even need to see your face to know that was going to be your reaction. We haven’t been able to come up with anything that comes together cohesively. It’s just a bunch of little pieces of songs that don’t fit. Ever do any music writing?” Peter asked hopefully.

Tony scrunched up his nose, shaking it vigorously. “I could write you any kind of system programming you want, I can read music, but I’ve never written lyrics.” He pulled out a few sheets and flipped through them. There were three song options in the nine pages he pulled out. Taking a deep breath, Tony thought for a moment. “Does it have to be an original song? Or could we come in there with a cover?”

Peter looked at him like he’d just solved world hunger, his eyes bulging almost comically – “Holy shit – why didn’t we ever think about that? The stuff we were putting down today sounded amazing. We’ve been dragging our toes on prepping something because there hasn’t been anything to prep.” His voice rose in pitch and volume the more he talked, his enthusiasm overtaking him. “Tony, you’re a genius,” he exclaimed, his arm wrapping around Tony’s shoulder. “An absolute genius.”

Preening at the words, Tony leaned into the touch – exhilaration overtaking most of the functioning of his brain. A throat clearing had them tearing apart – May was standing in front of them, her eyebrows raised. “Stop making a ruckus in here, Pete. Take your friend somewhere else if you’re gonna do that shit.” She took their plates away, her head shaking as she walked through the door to the kitchen.

“She’s right – we should get out of here.” Peter wasn’t quite meeting his eyes then, the embarrassment of being called out by his aunt tangible. Tony nudged him with his shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

“Okay – make sure you thank your aunt for the meal?” Tony got up from his chair as he spoke, the strap of his guitar case going over his shoulder once again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.” He gripped the back of the other man’s neck for a moment – Tony couldn’t stand not feeling Peter’s gorgeous locks under his fingers for another minute. Squeezing lightly in goodbye, Tony crossed the restaurant and left through the door.

\----

The next couple of weeks were spent going through a long list of songs that everyone thought would work for the dynamic of the band – and then refining that list. They performed them all over and over again, MJ arguing that the only way to really choose was to see how they sounded and how versatile they could be. Doing a cover was a good idea, but they needed to figure out a way to make it their own.

On top of all the band practice and get togethers, Tony spent some of his free time with Peter. After the diner and the mutual understanding of each other they came to, it was pretty easy to get lost in the friendship they were creating.

There was attraction there – Tony couldn’t deny how much he wanted to simply touch Peter, how he wanted to grab the back of his neck and pull him close enough to kiss. It was undeniable. Yet, toeing around the subject and merely getting to know each other felt more natural. Tony hoped something more would come, he thought about it pretty constantly; there wasn’t any need to rush, though – their similar interests weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

About two weeks before Battle of the Bands, Nick the bartender/owner of Monteros’ got ahold of Tony, the man offering them one of the open mic spots that suddenly opened. Tony didn’t hesitate to say yes – they needed to get some stage time as a band before they hit the big one. It was one thing to practice in the space they did every day, but a whole other thing to actually be in front of a crowd and entertain for more than one song.

Relaying the news, the entire band went wild. Tony recognized the relief on everyone’s faces, the thought of getting a warmup gig under their belt as a band was reassuring – they could work out all the kinks of their performance, they could gage how well the crowd reacted and changes things up if need be. Their practice that afternoon was filled with passion and excitement – everyone hit their cues, the entire set they were planning to play sounded great.

Tony stuck around after they were done to help Peter pack up his keyboard – MJ and Ned fled the second they could, the two of them probably picking up on the unresolved sexual tension between Peter and himself. No one talked about it, not even them – but it was there, tangible in the way they looked at each other, in the way Tony seemed to know what Peter wanted or was thinking before the man himself did. He was waiting for MJ to yell at them to just fuck already – Tony couldn’t wait for that.

“So, are you stoked, or are you really fucking stoked?” Tony asked, breaking the silence in their rehearsal space. It always felt a little weird when they were done, the acoustics of the place seemingly sucking up all the sound they made during practice and pulling it into the void. The eeriness of the silence kind of reminding him of home.

Peter zipped up his case and turned towards him, a beaming smile on his face. “Really fucking stoked. I can’t believe Nick called us. I’ve been trying to get him to let us in on an open mic night for ages.” He slung the strap across his body and closed the gap between them. As was customary these days, Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the man the ultimate tease with his soft touches and nonsexual intimacy.

“Rhodey was in there bragging about us last week – I bet that’s what swayed him. Nick is an old family friend of his,” Tony remarked, his own arm wrapping around Peter’s waist. “It’s a solid spot, there’s going to be a decent amount of people there. I’m so ready, Pete.” He squeezed the smaller man against him, fingers digging in slightly.

The other man stopped abruptly a second later, his shoes squeaked against the floor below them and Tony banged into his side. “Peter, what’s – “ was as far as Tony got before Peter turned slightly and pressed their lips together. It was electric – the satisfying feeling of finally settling deep within his gut. Tony adjusted enough to wrap his other arm around Peter, their chests making contact for the first time.

A subtle smack from the stem of his guitar against the back of his head had him pulling away, a gasp leaving his lips. He felt a little numb, his fingers and toes tingling obscenely – the core of the feeling pulsing his lips, the ones that finally got to be pressed against Peter’s. “Wow,” Tony mumbled, a hand moving to the back of his head to both soothe the ache and distract himself. The somewhat public space they were standing in was the last spot they wanted to get caught pressing each other up against the walls kissing frantically.

Peter’s dopey look had him pressing back in for another soft kiss – just to tide them over until they could do this properly, preferably somewhere less public. “Hold that thought,” Peter finally mumbled, his arms dropping down to his sides, feet carrying him a couple steps away from Tony. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore, y’know?” Peter asked the question with a laugh. “Of course, you know.”

Tony felt too breathless to answer, his entire body on fire from just those simple little touches. It scared him a little, just how much he felt in that moment. It was a craving – one so constant that the dam could potentially break at any time. He rifled his fingers through his hair, blinking rapidly for a moment. Peter drove him nuts and now that he knew the taste of him – he just might not survive.

By mutual agreement, they didn’t follow each other home like normal. Tony wanted time to process the new step they took – he needed to find a way to get himself under control before things ran away from him. He let his fingers brush across Peter’s cheek before they walked out of the building, the touch almost enough to spur him up again.

The walk helped to clear his head, his emotions in check now that he could think away from Peter. Getting to the point they were at seemed inevitable, yet it still shook him to the core. Someone wanted him, the Tony Stark that didn’t come with the glitz and glam, the one that just wanted to be who he was, not who people thought he should be. Giddiness slammed into him, the thought that someone finally saw him way more than enough.

He didn’t see Peter until the four of them got together a couple hours before the show at Monteros’ – Tony dug into the pizza they ordered to stave off pre-show hunger, his nervous eating something he thought he kicked a long time ago. His stomach felt funny, so he put food in it – anything else would have caused him more anxiety.

They kept their focus on the show the entire time, Tony determined to have his brain in it all the way. He planned to ask Peter back to his place after they were done, but that wasn’t here nor there in that moment – they had a show to play. Their last-minute preparations were quick and easy, the stage was already set up and ready for them to come out and hopefully blow the crowd away.

Nick announced them without much fanfare a little while later. Stepping out onto the stage, Tony was stoked to see Rhodey in their normal set of seats, he’d been on the phone with his best friend for a couple of hours the day before filling him in on the Peter situation and the insider details of what their set would entail.

Not wasting any time, Ned counted out the start of _I Love Rock ‘N Roll_ – Tony and MJ hit the opening riffs perfectly. Sucking in a breath, Tony started to sing – “ _I saw him dancing there by the record machine_.” He let his voice get a little gravely, his fingers moving over the frets as he belted out the first verse.

Tony dropped out at the chorus letting Peter and MJ take the harmonies through it, his mind preoccupied with the heavy guitar piece throughout. The sound of hands starting to clap through the next verse had Tony grinning, his energy increasing by the second. He almost wished he could drop the guitar and walk around the stage, work the crowd a little. It was alive, the thrum of enjoyment absolutely intoxicating.

A roar of applause sounded when they finished, the four of them clapping out the last note with the rest of the crowd. Taking a moment to soak it in, Tony turned to look over at Ned, his head nodding to start up the next song.

The click of his sticks brought Peter’s keyboard to life, the first few notes his and his alone. He counted out the beats after MJ joined in, his hands coming up to grip the microphone – “ _I feel the hunger, it’s a hunger – that tries to keep a man awake at night_.” Flashing his eyes over to Peter, Tony quirked an eyebrow, the words coming out of his mouth never truer than in that moment.

The chorus of this song was always Tony’s favorite and their decision to bring Peter in on it as an echo made it hit a little harder – the high falsetto of his “ _be my little baby, oh, ho, oh_ ” making the crowd roar. Grabbing the mic from the stand, he gripped some of the cord in his free hand to drag behind him, his guitar slung over his back. He took a few steps across the stage as he built up to the chorus.

Pressing himself against Peter’s side, Tony held the microphone between them, the chorus seeming to sound even better this time with both of their voices ringing so clearly in his own ears. He let a hand run down Peter’s thigh out of sight before walking back across the stage, stopping only when the tips of his feet were dangling off the edge of it. He leaned forward and delivered the last run into the climax of the song.

Tony couldn’t wipe the exhilarated look on his face, his cheeks burning from the smile, from having to aid in moving his mouth so much – simply from enjoying himself like never before. They finished the song off with the entire band coming in to hit the final line in a beautiful demonstration of organized chaos.

The next song was Tony’s favorite of the set. They spent a few days deciding whether they should replace the fiddles with a similar sound on the keyboard or rearrange it to include more guitar – in the end, they gave Tony the freedom to do whatever he wanted with the arrangement. During one of their late-night hangouts, Tony and Peter put together something special.

Tony started them off with the singular sound of the guitar, his fingers plucking over the strings in attempts to get a more wholesome tune, the pick he’d need later in the song between his lips. Ned came in with the bass drum and set the pace for MJ and Peter to slip in right before he started to sing – “ _Come on Eileen_ – “

Despite loving the initial entry into the song, Tony enjoyed the collective voice they put into the chorus. Most of the lines were call and response anyway – Tony dropping out every other line to magnify the sound of his guitar and the combined effect of Peter, MJ, and Ned echoing the lyrics back to him. He’d never felt the amount of energy from the rest of his friends on the stage before – they were fucking killing it and they all knew it.

Ending the song with his hand in the air, Tony finally let himself take a breath. His entire body was thrumming with a sort of energy he didn’t know existed – Tony had never felt like this before. He let the music die down completely before turning and looking at the rest of the people on stage with him – he was met with equals looks of joy and success. MJ looked serene, Ned sweaty and blissed out, and Peter – Peter looked equal parts hungry and over the moon. When their eyes locked, Tony felt the scorch of their gaze, the intensity of it off the charts.

In three songs, Tony managed to validate all of the things he’d been feeling about his step away from the Stark legacy. He worried and wondered for such a long time; it was insanely nice to finally feel at peace with his decision. The pumping of his heart felt so damn right – there wasn’t a single doubt in him any longer.

Nick came on the stage and called for another round of applause for them as they walked off. The second there was enough space, all four of them gathered together into one of their weird group hugs. Peter’s hand settled into the back pocket of Tony’s jeans, the touch adding to the tingly warmth that was already threatening to overwhelm him.

“That was amazing, right?” Peter asked. Everyone took a step back, the serenity of their group hug shifting to the room around them, instead. Tony’s face ached from the megawatt smile he could see replicated on all of the other’s faces. Amazing wasn’t the right word to describe that experience – it was world changing, Earth shifting kind of stuff.

“Hell yes – we’re going to kill it at Battle of the Bands. The changes we made to _Come On Eileen_ made that whole set come together. Brilliant, guys – fucking brilliant,” MJ said in reply, her voice loud, the exhilaration apparent in the tone of it.

“The crowd loved it, too. They were into it from start to finish. What a rush,” Tony added, his cheeks tinging pink at the admission – he couldn’t help it, he felt good, free for the very first time in his life. He heard Peter chuckle and turned to look at him, a shy smile on his lips.

Peter didn’t look away like he expected him to. The hunger in his eyes seemed to pulse, the sight of it making his cock suddenly come to life. Obviously unwilling to wait any longer to touch him, Peter stepped into Tony’s space, an arm wrapping around his waist. Tony reciprocated, his fingers snaking across the back of Peter’s neck to wrap tightly around his shoulders. 

Ned and MJ were their friends and bandmates – it seemed pertinent to be able to feel comfortable around them. Society wasn’t on their side, but he hoped they might be.

Turning his head, Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s hair – it smelled like citrus, some sort of hair product, and sweat; the delicious musk of him tantalizing. Tony liked to function under the rule of actions speaking louder than words – his attempt at telling them loud, but not shouting it subtle enough.

MJ turned to Ned, her fist slamming into his upper arm with a solid thwack – “Cough it up. I told you.” Her painted lips were stretched into a shit eating grin. MJ was a breath of fresh air and the silent acceptance of that one statement meant so goddamn much.

“Want to come back to mine?” Tony whispered, his lips barely grazing Peter’s ear as he spoke. He felt Peter shudder, the movement pressing the other man’s shoulder into his side more fully.

Instead of answering, Peter looked over at Ned and MJ, a smile slipping across his lips. “You two can take care of my keyboard, right?” His eyes flashed with amusement at the question, Tony noticing a deep flush coursing across his cheeks and down his neck. If all things went to plan, Tony would get to see where that blush stopped and what exactly it led to.

“Yes, go. The tension you guys let fester over the past few weeks is disgusting. I’ll stop by May’s tomorrow and get your keys to you.” She stopped, then looked back at them with a saucy smirk. “Protect yourself, boys.”

\----

Throughout the walk, Tony figured things would cool down between them – they needed to focus on the steps in front of them, not each other. Yet, Tony struggled to keep his hands to himself. The overall aura radiating from Peter was so bright, like light directly from the sun – the nights activities and anticipation for more looked amazing on him. Tony wanted to grasp the brightness and keep some for himself.

It seemed to take forever to get to his place, despite it being only a few blocks away from the bar. Getting to his building, Tony practically pushed Peter up the stairs. He struggled with the lock for a couple of seconds before getting the damn thing open with a sigh of relief. All bets were off when the door closed behind them.

Tony pressed Peter against the door, his hands settling on the other man’s hips in a tight grip. Using it to his advantage, he pressed Peter more firmly into the wood and rested his own hips against him. A moan left his lips at the evidence of Peter’s arousal, the bulge in his jeans more than obvious now that Tony was pressed so tightly against him. Rolling his hips, Tony thrust against him until they were lined up, cock to cock.

Peter’s head knocked back against the door, the solid thud of it making Tony look up. Normally bright brown eyes were covered by soft looking eyelids framed in gorgeously long eyelashes. The squint was back, crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a tight pinch between his brows one of the man’s natural reactions. His mouth was wide open, little hums and gasps falling from his lips.

While he still had a bit of sense left in him, Tony pulled back a little, the hands still on Peter’s hips guiding him, pulling him forward until they were walking down the hall. Tony could find anything in his place with his eyes closed, so the backwards position wasn’t an issue for him. The backs of his legs hit the mattress when they finally made it into the bedroom. Tony sat down on the edge of it, his hands still tugging Peter along,

The man didn’t hesitate to straddle his lap, a long sigh leaving both their lips when their cocks were lined up again – the pressure of his jeans made him want to tear off all their clothes, but the deliciousness of Peter’s hard warmth against him was too hard to pull away from just yet. Peter leaned down to kiss him again, his hands greedily running down the sides of Tony’s flanks until fingers were toying with the plain red shirt he’d been wearing up on stage. Wanting to help, Tony lifted his hands so Peter could pull the shirt over his head.

Fabric hitting the floor spurred Tony on just the same, his hands not nearly as smooth in their removal of the short sleeve button up Peter looked so damn good in. He let a huff of success leave his lips when he got the shirt down the other’s arms, his wrist flicking it across the room. With so much skin on display, Tony found himself in stimulus overload. He wanted to nip, kiss, and touch every single inch of him – Peter’s skin was smooth and pale, a couple of freckles and moles littering his torso and upper shoulders. Tony ached for it all.

“Hold on,” Tony mumbled against Peter’s lips, his hands gripping under Peter’s thighs. He stood up and flipped their positions, Tony doing his best to put Peter down on the bed gently. Peter’s pearly white skin was a perfect contrast to the black sheets on the bed – the man a spark amongst the darkness.

Eager fingers moved to the button of Peter’s jeans – he worked to get them open, unzipped, and down his thighs in no time at all. It took a bit of fumbling to get his shoes and socks off without making it awkward, but Peter was in just his black briefs in no time. With a quick kiss to Peter’s lips, Tony pulled away, getting up from the bed – he needed to get his pants off that very instant, or he might actually explode.

Peter shifted his position on the mattress, the man coming to his knees and meeting Tony at the edge of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his lips when the metal of his zipper was no longer digging into his sensitive flesh. Kicking everything to the side, Tony stood in front of him completely naked – his cock sticking straight out in a delicate salute to one Peter Parker.

Before he knew it, Peter’s lips were around his cock – the other man didn’t waste a second of time, his greedy hands palmed Tony’s ass cheeks and pulled him closer; his cock slipping even further into the tight heat of his mouth. Tony let his hands drift into Peter’s hair, his head dropping back, the tension of his neck the only thing keeping it on his shoulders still.

Despite knowing he liked men since an early age, Tony wasn’t exposed to very many options to find partners similarly inclined. His experience wasn’t vast – even still, he knew Peter was good at what he was doing; Tony’s brains were oh so delicately being sucked from his cock little by little. Finding that he couldn’t keep his hips still anymore, Tony loosened is grip, forcing himself to look down. “I’m going to cum if you keep doing that. I want the first time to be inside of you,” Tony mumbled hoarsely, his arousal coloring his voice drastically.

The licks and sucks didn’t end right away, Peter bobbed his head a couple more times before pulling away, spit on his chin and a mischievous grin on his face. “I needed to taste you,” he said simply, his body already shifting away from Tony and further onto the mattress. He shimmied out of the briefs and threw them over the side of the bed. Tony watched him settle in the middle of the mattress on his hands and knees, his head turned looking at Tony over his shoulder. “This okay?”

“More than,” Tony babbled, his body moving on autopilot to the perfectly Tony sized space between Peter’s legs. He gripped both of cheeks in his hands and parted them, his tongue slipping out to drag across his perineum. He traced up the path and settled at Pete’s puckered hole, the tip of his tongue darting against the tension without any warning.

“Fuck, Tony – warn a guy,” Peter rumbled, a chuckle lacing his words. He pressed his hips back against Tony’s face, the action totally contradictory to his words.

Pressing against the rim again, Tony felt Peter relax around him, his tongue slipping in only for Tony to pull it back and thrust forward quickly again. The small ‘ahs’ he was getting from Peter spurred him on. He took long licks around the rim, the spit of it all collecting in his goatee and dripping down to the sheets below him.

He would’ve kept going, but Peter turned and tried to paw at him, his fingers gripping whatever they could of Tony’s arm. “I need you to fuck me, Tony.” Who was he to not stop what he was doing and get down to business? Nodding, he pulled back with another long lick from his crack down to his balls – a moan sliding from his own throat as he did.

Tony forced himself to reach over and open the bedside drawer. In anticipation of tonight, he brought a brand-new box of condoms and bottle of lube. Grabbing them, he tossed the condom onto the bed next to Peter’s hip and tore at the wrapping around the top of the bottle with his teeth. He let a sigh drip from his lips when he got it open.

Flipping the cap, Tony squirted a good amount of the lube on two of his fingers and let it heat up there. “Might be cold,” Tony whispered, both fingers pressing against Peter’s rim. There wasn’t much resistance when he pushed inside, his tongue doing a good job relaxing him. He thrust a few times, fingertips seeking out that special spot and finally hitting it.

“Do that again!” Peter exclaimed, his hips shoving back in an attempt to get Tony’s fingers deeper. Complying without question, Tony reached until his fingers were pressing against Peter’s prostate with every thrust. The walls around his digits were quaking, Peter rhythmically clenching around him. Tony couldn’t wait to feel that around his cock, the hardness straining between his legs sluggishly dripping precum from the tip.

Peter reached behind himself again, his hand patting the mattress until he found the condom. “Put this on. I need you.” His voice was dripping with need, the man’s hips thrusting forward into the mattress on their own accord. Peter was strung out, the sight enough to be any man’s downfall. Tony’s head swam for a second, his arousal finally catching up to him.

He bit into the side of the package and tore it open, his fingers working quickly to get the condom down his length – he had to clench the base of his cock a couple of times to stop himself from coming; it was all too much.

A lubed-up hand circled Peter’s hole a couple of times, then smeared the rest down his length – Tony gripping himself hard as he lined up and pressed forward. The initial push was like glorious torture – “Push back against me, you’re so tight, Pete,” Tony babbled, his cock encased in the most enticing heat he’d ever experienced. The orgasm he’d been trying to stave off the entire time was quickly approaching.

Finally bottoming out, Tony gave himself a moment to calm down. His skin was riddled with goosebumps and completely sweat soaked. He marveled at the same sheen he could see on Peter’s skin. He reached around until his hand was closing over Peter’s erection, the other man considerable in size and girth – his cock surprisingly rock hard despite the pain he probably felt upon first intrusion. Tony let his hips roll forward and the cock in his hand jump – the throb there so apparent against his palm.

To impatient to give either of them anymore time, Tony started to thrust. He drew his hips back until only the tip was resting inside, his balls already scrunched up and tight against his skin. Letting his hips roll, Tony pushed back in nice and slow. Peter took every inch, his body moving in time with Tony’s. After a few minutes, they found a good rhythm – Tony sat back up and clenched slim hips in his hands, picking up the pace.

It felt like hours, the push and pull of their coupling. Peter panted out Tony’s name over and over again – his voice rough, sounding a little more shattered each time. Tony did his best to keep things tame, but finally hit a melting point – his body ached, the need for release getting to the almost painful point. “I’m so close, Pete.”

“Me too. Touch me, touch me – please,” Peter babbled in response, his hips pressing back into Tony ruthlessly, the pace all sorts of fucked up now. Reaching around again, Tony wrapped his hand around Peter’s dick, his hips picking up speed enough to where the other man’s cock slipped through his grip with every thrust.

He felt the sticky wetness on his fingers and absolutely lost it. “Ah, Pete!” he just about screamed, his orgasm hitting him like a truck going full speed. Tony had just enough left in him to pull out and sink to the mattress with only half of his body on top of Peter’s.

They laid in their mess for a few minutes, Tony doing his best to blink away the dark spots and haze. He watched Peter’s breathing even out, the man’s chest heaving a little less with each draw of breath. The sweat on his skin was what brought him completely out of the post-orgasm goodness, his skin once again breaking out in goosebumps.

“Want to take a shower?” Tony questioned, his lips pressing to the back of Peter’s neck. He sat up and pulled the condom off, tying it and sending it into the wastebasket by the side of the bed with a thunk. He ran a hand up Peter’s hip just because he could – the concept one he would have no problems getting used to.

Peter reached back and pulled him into a kiss, a grin on his lips. “Sounds good, baby.”

\----

Two weeks later, they were gathered in their rehearsal space, prepping one last time for Battle of the Bands the next day. After getting some feedback from friends and randos in the audience, the group decided to add a fourth song – they were given twenty minutes to perform and could get all of them in if they were efficient about their time.

Since the night of their show, Peter and Tony were pretty much inseparable – they practiced together daily, ate at May’s, hung out with MJ, Ned, and Rhodey; and had lots of sex. It was a good kind of weird, having someone to touch and kiss – Peter loved to be near him and always wanted to be against him in some fashion. Bonding the way they were helped their chemistry on stage, too. They were on fire – the translation of that in their performance coming out in the shape of wild energy and passion.

Wrapping up, MJ posed the question they’d been avoiding this entire time. “What do we call ourselves? We’ve been playing together all this time and never thought to come up with a name.” She looked at each of them, her eyes searching for some sort of clue.

“3 dudes and a lady?” Ned threw out, his shoulders shrugging. MJ’s eyebrows pinched together, the obvious distaste for that one written all over her face. Ned shrugged again – “At least I tried.”

Tony looked over at Peter, his brain going back to all of the adventures they had walking through this very neighborhood. When there wasn’t much to do, they picked a street and wandered until they found something or ended up back home. A grin slipped across his cheeks, an idea coming to him. “Why don’t we call ourselves The Neighborhood Friendlies?”

There was a beat of silence before MJ broke into a grin of her own – “Tony Stark, you’re a genius.”

Hearing that name announced the never next day made Tony’s heart want to beat straight out of his chest. They walked out onto a stage that was twice as big as Monteros’ and brightly lit. Tony squinted, his pulse thrumming in his ears. It took him a second to adjust and then another second to recognize Peter’s hand on his arm, the fingers there squeezing reassuringly. “Let’s rock it, baby,” Peter mouthed, his right eye winking saucily.

With a click, the performance clock started, the stagehand off to the side holding up her thumb as a sign to get started. “Hey, everyone. We’re The Neighborhood Friendlies!” Tony spoke into the mic, his voice much steadier than he figured it would be. Turning, he nodded at Ned – the man grinned and bringing his sticks up, clicked out the starting tempo.

Their first three songs went great, their dynamic got better the longer they were up there – the crowd played into it, chanting and cheering – the sound of it enough to keep Tony focused, his nerves in check, but just barely. Looking over at Peter, he returned the wink from earlier and started in on their final song – “ _Calling out around the world, are you ready for a brand new beat_?”

He swung his guitar around his back and grabbed the mic from the stand meeting Peter in the middle of the stage. _Dancing in the Street_ called for both of them to sing the entire time, the matching pitches of their voices sounding better than Bowie and Jagger. To top it all off, they kicked around the stage, getting themselves purposely tangled in the mic wires, only to finish perfectly free on opposite sides of the stage from each other. Leaning into his shoulder, Tony pressed his face into the sweat soaked shirt and let out a huge breath. No matter what, they’d just given and left their all out on the stage.

The four of them tried to watch the rest of the bands from the back of the stage but couldn’t focus a single bit – Tony was still thrumming with excess energy and excitement from their amazing performance. After that initial jolt of nerves, Tony forgot all about the big crowd and the potential prize and just cut loose – his performance all the better for it. He and Peter were covertly holding hands, MJ and Ned flanking them to be close and act as cover all at once.

As the last band performing left the stage, Tony felt himself starting to get a little nervous again. If they took this thing, they could easily find themselves on track for a record deal – the money they brought home from this would give them more than enough wiggle room to record, maybe even find a lyricist that could help them put together original songs for them to debut. His fingers gripped Peter’s tightly; the other man just as nervous if the sweat against his palm had anything to say about it.

It almost didn’t register – when their name was announced. Tony and Peter looked at each other, then turned to look at MJ and Ned – all four of them completely dumbfounded. “I think that’s us,” Ned finally said, a huge grin breaking out across his face.

“Holy shit, that’s us!” Peter yelled, his hand gripping Tony’s so tightly he thought for a moment that he might’ve broken a bone. The other man leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek – “We fucking won!”

\----

The next time Tony saw his father, they were finishing up their first tour in beautiful New York City – the band practically demanded it when they found out they’d be leaving the city for six months. It was a hell of a ride, traveling the states in a bus, getting to play for thousands of people on a nightly basis. Tony learned so much about music and singing, about himself and the things he wanted and could do, and about love and the way he could so selflessly give it to someone else.

When Peter looked at him on the stage, it felt like the first time every time. They were so much more now, together and apart – Tony figured things would always feel old as dirt and brand new all at the same time with Peter. That had to be what forever felt like.

So, seeing Howard standing there in the VIP line, Tony was pleasantly surprised. 18 months ago, he still would have tried to flee or angrily push him away. Now, he merely smiled at him, his dark tinted glasses hiding the hope that he couldn’t ever stop from coursing through him whenever his dad was around. “Dad, here for a picture with the band?” Tony asked, stepping up to the rope himself instead of letting the attendant walk him back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked once they were away from the rest of the line. He wanted to trust that his dad wanted to be there to support him, but that hadn’t ever been the case before. It felt like a longshot that something like that would change so easily.

“I had to see for myself. How good you were doing. Your mom plays your stuff in the house all the time. I just – needed to see you.”

Tony’s stomach clenched; he’d been waiting to hear that from his dad for his entire life. Without thinking, he threw his arms around him – “Thanks for coming.” He mumbled the words into the jacket of his suit, then pulled away. The current technology made getting pictures of him a lot easier these days.

“Well, come on, then. I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around! 
> 
> This was my pop star au prompt for Starkerfestival bingo - so I'm hoping you liked it! If you're interested in sending me a prompt or keeping up with some of my shorter stuff, I'm ohwereusingourmadeupnames over on tumblr! The ask box is always open. 
> 
> You guys are the best!


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